Common Loss
by Adnesle
Summary: What have Hannah Klein and Ronald Sandoval got in common? Post-Subterfuge (spoilers).


COMMON LOSS  
  
Hannah Klein, or the woman that had died with this name at least, opened her eyes again. The taelon bioslurry felt cool under her skin damp with sweat. It was not the first time she had opened her eyes again, not the first time that she had been resurrected, but though the first time she had been brought back to life in a taelon lab. She had often opened her eyes in secret military facilities, and oh yes! Resurrecting people was as easy as it seemed to be in old science-fiction movies, with technology borrowed from the Taelons.  
  
But it was always the same feeling… Falling. Falling non stop, to have this feeling inside that your body is falling and the incredible fear that you are going to be stopped on something, to hit rock bottom, before someone is going to pick you up. She as always had this taste of fear into her mouth. It was not the fall in itself that was terrifying, but rather the human strangely logical mind that kept screaming at you that you could not and would not fall for infinite time and that you would crash on something. And then you feared the pain, the shock and death. And when she saw ground coming so closely, she screamed always and opened her eyes.  
  
Her eyelids fluttered, her eyes trying to make out the shadow hovering over her. She could soon place a name upon the asian features… Ronald Sandoval. And then, as always, she remembered everything in a rush that left her dizzy and forced her to close her eyes again, though she did not want to and feared she was going to be taken by the falling feeling again. And she recalled the face of Liam Kincaid telling her that everything would be okay, telling her that she would be all right… And she remembered how she had loved him at this moment… It was not really love… No… But it had been the vague shape of what love would look like.  
  
Sandoval seemed to recognize the severe look she knew her features were displaying. "Welcome back," he said curtly, as if he expected evidently no thanks from her.  
  
She swung her legs off the edge of the table, but they felt still too uncertain to attempt to rest her weight on them. If he had brought her back, it surely was not by pure mercy but rather to use of her again. And she was too tired to be used.  
  
In the few following minutes, he presented her what her assigned boss usually presented her: the place that would be her new home (Spain, a small town in the North with too much vowels in its name for her to pronounce it without messing it up), the moment of time she had specifically to be there (in exactly two weeks, something would happen) and the identity she would assume of course, since Hannah Klein was not a valuable one anymore (a english art teacher in a small english college).  
  
But… there was nothing else. So she asked. Her voice sounded acid even to her. "And what am I going to do? Teaching?"  
  
"Of course, what did you think you were going to do?" he replied as if this were really natural.  
  
Okay he was being stubborn about it, but the Sandoval she had known some days ago was not this subtle. She gave it another try. "Try again Sandoval. I'm no teacher you know it as well as I do."  
  
He was still turning his back at her, watching over some data scrolling down at CVI speed on a datastream. "You were quite good as doing fractal sculptures though." He was right, unfortunately. Art was her thing. She had always wanted to be an artist back in her youth… But fate had twisted it otherwise. "I'm sure you're gonna be as good teaching it."  
  
She threw the file containing the few infos about her new identity on the table beside her. She had not even looked at it. She was not ready for this, not yet, not minutes after coming back from the dead. "Okay. What the hell is going on?"  
  
The agent finally stopped working, waved off the datastream and turned to her. "I've given you all necessary informations on the subject." A pause, he looked uncertain as to what to say and as how to say it. "The Bureau has decided that Kincaid was your last target. They've taken you off of the service." He then went on, his tone growing more official though. "You will be in Spain for the next year. After that time, you'll be free to travel and to go wherever you want to."  
  
She felt something odd, and odd tickling sensation into her neck. She took the file and opened it, there were two sheets in it. Nothing big, it would take minutes to learn and then seconds to destroy. The name. The name on her file, the birthplace, her parents' names… "Was this the Bureau idea?" she whispered, her eyes still looking, scanning each letter of each word, wanting to make sure it was just true.  
  
"No." No it was one idea of his of course. Everything can be known, just the means changed. She had thought her past forgotten… As sarcastic as ever, are you agent Sandoval? He snapped his global shut. The noise seemed to bring her back from wherever she was. "You should hurry, I've a shuttle already waiting for you. Your appartment has been scealed for the governmental agents. But they won't be there before tomorrow, you can go back there to pick up the few things you possess through portal. I'll have it unlocked for the next hour."  
  
He then stared at her fixingly during a good fifteen seconds, with this glimmer in his eyes that was worrying and terribly saddenning at the same time. Why she had not been able to resist this man… once… He turned to leave, but suddenly trusting her legs, she stepped down the table and gripped his skrill-arm strongly enough to make him smirk. "Why agent Sandoval?"  
  
He seemed to hesitate, his eyes wavering, searching on the floor a spot at which to look at, anything but her eyes seemingly. But she realeased him, knowing that he was going to answer. That he wanted to unburden. He leaned in close, his chest touched hers, his lips close to her neck. "You've told me that you'd lost your name… your indentity… your self… that the Bureau had sold it for you. And that I had nothing at all to lose in fighting." He paused. "You were wrong. Where they've made you lose your identity… Hannah, they've sold my soul. I've sold my soul. I've lost it." He almost spat the last sentence, and then with no glancing back he turned away from her and, as quietly as ever, left the room.  
  
She could only hope she would never see this dark man again. But at least she had understand, how justifiable were his actions, and what game was he playing… 


End file.
